


Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic

by Kiraly



Series: HogwartSSSS AU [5]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Denial of Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-02-18 15:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: When Onni went to school to learn magic, he never expected to find friendship. But he did, and now he wants nothing more than to keep that friendship the way it is...even if his heart is leading him to something new.Reynir loves everything about wizard school: learning magic, playing Quidditch, and spending time with his friends. He's getting better at magic, and flying is easier than it used to be. Friendship, though, is getting complicated.





	1. Quidditch

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY I'm giving in, time to start posting this thing. What started as a silly idea grew out of control, and now I have three chapters written and at least as many more planned. Originally I was going to wait until I had the whole thing written, but I got tired of waiting and decided to go ahead and post the first one. Chapters will be long (you can see how long chapter one is, and it's the shortest so far) and there may be some time in between them, since I want to give myself a buffer. 
> 
> You may notice some unfamiliar (or vaguely familiar) characters popping up. I needed to populate a whole school, so I borrowed a mix of characters from A Redtail's Dream, OCs from my other fics, and SSSS characters so minor they don't even have real names. Don't worry though, this story mostly focuses on our favorite crew of misfits.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This story begins a few weeks after the events of Owl Post, and it references events from Flying Lessons. It probably isn't necessary to have read those, but if you want to feel free to click the series link. There's a bit of information about the houses and family histories of the main characters there too, if you're curious.  
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated! :)

#  **_August_ **

“I’m going to miss you _so much!”_

Reynir enveloped Onni in yet another bone-crushing hug. Onni sighed. Ever since they woke up that morning, Reynir had been acting like they were never going to see each other again. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so annoying.

“We’ll see each other again in _two weeks,_ Reynir,” he said, removing himself from the embrace. He had to finish packing, and Reynir’s clinging was not helpful. “It’s not that long. Before you know it we’ll be back at school.” He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the separation either, but that had more to do with the prospect of facing his grandmother in a few short hours.

When Onni had run—well, flown—away to Reynir’s house, he hadn’t really been thinking. He’d simply jumped out the window, transformed into his owl self, and gone. Reynir’s family had given him as much hospitality as they could: the cast-off clothes from Reynir’s older brothers more or less fit, and he hadn’t eaten so well since the end of term feast. But he had summer homework to finish and school supplies to buy. What was more, he had to pick up the pieces he’d left behind. The vacation had been nice, but it was time to go home.

Reynir flopped onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. “But two weeks is _so long._ And it won’t be the same. We’ll be stuck in class all day. We don’t sleep in the same dorm. And we can’t even sit together on the train, you have to go sit with the Prefects!”

Onni finished organizing his bag—thanks to his hosts’ generosity, he had more to take home than he’d brought with him—and sat down next to Reynir. “Is that what’s bothering you? Reynir, it’s just the train. You can sit with Tuuri and Lalli and Emil. Or one of the many, _many_ other people who want to spend time with you.” It never surprised Onni that people fell into Reynir’s orbit like moths to a flame. But it did surprise him that Reynir never seemed to notice, and had somehow chosen Onni, out of everyone, to be his friend.

“Mmm.” Reynir shifted around so he could put his head in Onni’s lap. “That’s not really what I mean, though. I love school, but...it’s not the same as when it’s just the two of us. With your O.W.L.s coming up this year on top of everything else, I’m worried you’re gonna be too busy for me.”

A tiny laugh escaped Onni at that. “Me?” He looked down. The summer sun had multiplied Reynir’s freckles, and his hair flopped around his head like a disheveled halo. They’d spent plenty of evenings just like this over the years, since Reynir insisted he couldn’t focus while sitting in a chair. Really, Onni suspected his lap made a more comfortable pillow when Reynir inevitably fell asleep studying, but it was fine. He’d gotten used to it. “I don’t know why you’d think that. We still both have to study, we’re in the same house. That’s not going to change.” And then, because Reynir’s mood was getting to him, “and I will miss you too. But it’s only two weeks.”

“Only two weeks,” Reynir said. “Okay.”

He still looked sad when he watched Onni go that night. With his owl eyes, it was easy to see Reynir in the empty field, face upturned. He watched the sky long after human eyes would have been able to see Onni fly away.

 

* * *

 

#  **_September_ **

It was always a relief to pass through the barrier at platform nine and three-quarters. The platform was just as crowded and chaotic as the rest of the station, but at least on that side Onni didn’t have to worry about his family doing something embarrassing. Tuuri got a little too excited whenever she saw some new evidence of muggle technology, and Lalli flinched and hissed if he heard a loud sound or saw something he considered ‘weird’. Since they were in London, these things happened every five minutes or so. Onni was glad their grandmother had finally decided they were old enough to go without her supervision; she refused to wear muggle clothes and spent the whole trip glaring suspiciously at everyone.

The other good thing about Ensi’s absence was that Onni was in charge, which meant he could make sure they arrived in plenty of time. “Okay, it’s 10:34. Let’s get our trunks on the train and double check that we haven’t forgotten anything before—” He realized he was talking to empty air. Tuuri had already disappeared into a crowd of friends to show off her new broom, and Lalli was making a beeline for the train. Or, more likely, towards the blond boy who was loudly complaining about the muggle train ride he’d suffered through. Onni sighed. At least they’d both taken their luggage with them.

Onni loaded his own trunk and returned to the platform. He was a prefect now, so he thought he should make sure the other students got where they were going—especially first years, and especially muggle-born first years. He still remembered how bewildered Reynir had been back then. Most likely there were some other kids feeling the same way today.

He spotted a likely candidate not far from the train, a little girl looking around with wide eyes. She was accompanied by an older woman, possibly her grandmother, who looked just as awed and was talking very fast.

“...actually go right through the wall! I don’t mind saying, I thought we might hit it for a moment there. But of course you’ll be learning all about that I’m sure, you’ll come home knowing all about magic walls and spellbooks and—goodness! Did that cat just change color?” The little girl, who clutched a carrier with a fluffy grey kitten inside, craned her neck to see.

Onni took a deep breath. He put on what he hoped was a welcoming expression and approached the two of them. “Ah. Hello.” The woman and the girl turned to look at him. “Do you need any help with—”

“ONNIIII!!!”

He only had a split second of warning before something heavy struck him from the side, throwing him off balance. He would have fallen over, but strong arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight and keeping him on his feet. All the air left his lungs, so it took a moment for him to speak once he realized what had happened.

“Oof—Reynir!” He gasped for breath. “You’re...crushing me.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Reynir loosened his grip and grabbed Onni by the shoulders instead. “I’m just so happy to see you!”

Onni had to admit, he was glad to see Reynir too. It seemed like he’d somehow gotten even taller over the past two weeks, and his face boasted new freckles. And of course, he was smiling that bright smile, the one that made people flock to him. As he turned to look at who Onni was talking to, Onni could see the smile work its magic on them.

“I’m sorry! I’m being so rude!” He held out his hand. “I’m Reynir, it’s nice to meet you! You must be new.”

The girl accepted Reynir’s handshake with an open-mouthed stare. “Oh! Ah, hi.” At a nudge from her grandmother, she belatedly added. “Kjersti. And, uh, I am. New.” She was so tiny she had to lean back to look at him. Reynir must have noticed, because he crouched down and made a show of looking into her cat carrier.

“It’s okay, everyone has to start somewhere. I didn’t know _anything_ about magic when I first came to Hogwarts. My family raises sheep!” The kitten rubbed its face against the carrier door, and Reynir stroked it. “And who is this? Such a sweetie!”

As Reynir chatted with the girl and her cat, Onni turned his attention to her grandmother. The woman watched the conversation with a fond expression, but every now and then she threw a worried glance around at the crowded platform. She looked, Onni thought, like he always felt while shepherding his family through muggle London.

“She’ll be all right,” he said, softly enough that Reynir and Kjersti didn’t notice. Kjersti’s grandmother looked up sharply. Onni squared his shoulders and did his best to look responsible. “I’m Onni Hotakainen, I’m one of the prefects. This must all seem very strange to you, but…” he shrugged. “There will be plenty of other students like her who don’t know their way around. And students like me whose job it is to make sure they find their way.”

The grandmother’s face softened. “And is your friend also a prefect?” Reynir had moved on to admiring Kjersti’s hair, which was braided in tight little rows with star-shaped beads on the ends. She shook her head to make them clink together, and Reynir applauded.

“He’s not...not yet,” Onni said. “He’s too young. But he’s very kind. Always sees the best in everyone.”

“Hmm.” The grandmother smiled. “It sounds like he has good taste in friends.” She gave Onni a knowing look, and for some reason it made his face heat. He was relieved when Reynir gave the kitten one final scratch under the chin and straightened up.

“We should probably find seats on the train, right? Kjersti, do you need help with your trunk? Oh!” Reynir spotted another group moving towards the train and flagged them down. “Dagny! Hey, is that your little sister?”

Dagny, a fourth year Ravenclaw who Reynir knew from Quidditch Club, paused to greet them. “Hey Reynir! Onni, nice to see you. This is my sister Lilja, she’s starting this year.”

Lilja shouldered her way in front of her sister. “Oooh, your kitty!” She smiled wide at Kjersti’s cat carrier, revealing two missing teeth. She clutched a case of her own with a cat that was—

“Oh my gosh, your kitty _does_ change color!” Kjersti leaned closer to look. Sure enough, the cat’s fur slowly cycled from pink to orange to yellow, all the way through the rainbow. Both girls broke into an excited cat-related discussion.

Onni inserted himself into Dagny’s and Reynir’s conversation before they could get too distracted. “Maybe we should get all this luggage loaded?” The others agreed, and between the three of them and Kjersti’s grandmother, they managed to get the trunks stowed and the two girls into a compartment. Kjersti was smiling as she hugged her grandmother goodbye. As they turned to go, she caught Reynir’s sleeve.

“Thank you,” she said. Her eyes shone with a light that Onni knew all too well: Reynir had just added a new member to his fan club.

He didn’t know why that left him feeling so unsettled. Or why his shoulders tensed when Dagny and Reynir exchanged a hug, laughing, and promised to meet up later. It was _good_ that Reynir had other friends. He’d said as much when they parted in August. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ Reynir to be alone when he had other things to do. He had prefect duties now, and O.W.L.s to study for, and if that meant Reynir spent more time with random Ravenclaw girls, then—

“Come on, let’s find where the others are sitting,” Reynir said, catching Onni’s hand. “Tuuri promised to tell me all about her summer at Sigrun’s house.”

Onni let himself be pulled along. “Uh. But didn’t you want to catch up with—” he waved vaguely in the direction Dagny had gone.

Reynir grinned. “Nah, I’ll see her later.” He squeezed Onni’s hand. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you have to go be a prefect.”

“Oh.”

It should have been reassuring. They were on their way back to school, back to the routine they’d fallen into over the last few years. There was no reason to think that anything would be different. But as Onni followed Reynir through the train, he kept remembering the feeling of Reynir’s arms around him, the way his face lit up when he spoke. Warmth radiated from where their hands were joined. He felt the weight of Reynir’s palm in his, and some part of him knew nothing would ever be the same.

 

* * *

 

Reynir rose with the sun on the first Saturday of the term. He couldn’t help it; after a lifetime of early farm chores, his body just wouldn’t let him sleep in. And now that he was back at school, there were actually _exciting_ things to do on Saturdays. He wouldn’t want to miss them over something silly like sleeping. Even if _some_ people didn’t agree.

“Onni! Rise and shine!” He pushed the heavy bed curtains open to let the light in.

“Ngghf.” The figure in the bed, already cocooned in blankets, rolled away and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Oh no you don’t,” Reynir said. He tugged the pillow away and grabbed the corner of the nearest blanket. “Come on! We have places to be!”

As usual, Onni did not react well to having his covers ripped away. “Go ‘way. ‘M a prefect now, gonna take allll the house points.”

Reynir climbed onto the bed. “I’m pretty sure you can’t do that. Tuuri looked it up for me, she says you’re not allowed.” He ruffled Onni’s hair, making the bed-head even worse until Onni swatted his hand away. “Besides, aren’t you hungry? If we want breakfast before Quidditch club, we have to go now.”

“Breakfast.” Onni’s eyes finally cracked open for that. “Later.”

“No, _now,”_ Reynir insisted. “It’s Quidditch club! I know it’s not really your thing, but everyone likes having you there. You’re such a good teacher! And I heard Sigrun finally got permission for us to practice with bludgers this year. Isn’t that exciting?”

Onni sat up. “BLUDGERS?” All of a sudden he looked wide awake. “Is she INSANE? Someone is going to get knocked off their broom and end up in the hospital wing like you did your first year! I thought she started this club so that wouldn’t happen again!”

It was true. After their ill-fated first meeting, Sigrun had taken it upon herself to make sure no one who wanted to fly got left out. The house teams only let the best players in—how were other students supposed to improve if they didn’t get a chance to play? So twice a month, Sigrun and a handful of others ran a practice that was open to anyone, regardless of skill level or house. They started off simple, with flying technique and basic drills. As time went on, they’d get into the more in-depth ball handling needed for each position, and eventually do practice matches.

Reynir adored it. He hadn’t been good enough for the Hufflepuff team at last year’s tryouts, but by the end of the year he was able to help the younger students who needed some extra encouragement. The practice matches were always fun, too, with everyone playing at once and Sigrun throwing in rule variations every now and then to shake things up.

Onni, on the other hand, had only agreed to come because he worried that something bad would happen to Reynir, Tuuri, or Lalli. It was probably unfair for Reynir to use that to his advantage...but it could take all morning to drag Onni out of bed otherwise. His roommates had long ago given up trying to wake him. They’d also quickly found coping methods—magical earplugs, silencing spells on their bed curtains—to deal with Reynir barging in at such an early hour. Attempts had been made to simply keep him out, but Reynir was very good at unlocking charms. Eventually they’d given it up as a lost cause.

Sometimes Reynir felt a little guilty for dragging Onni out of bed so early. He worked so hard, and he was always up so late studying. But mostly Reynir was selfishly, fiercely glad to have his best friend with him. They barely had any classes together; in some distant future, one he didn’t like to think about, he’d have to do a whole year here by himself. So he treasured the time they had. Even if that meant Onni sulking over a pile of toast while Reynir talked about Quidditch.

“She’s really using bludgers?” Onni asked again on their way to practice. He looked a little more alive now, or at least resigned to his fate. “I can’t believe they agreed to that. The new kids haven’t had a chance to practice at all yet.” The breeze ruffled his hair as they walked, sending it out in all directions. Between that and his furrowed brow, he looked even more like a disgruntled owl than usual.

Reynir shrugged. “That’s what she told me. I don’t think we’re using them the whole time, though. After we go through the basics, she wants some of us older students to do a demonstration.”

“Us?” Onni’s frown deepened. Before he could ask anything else though, a weight dropped on Reynir’s shoulder, shoving him into Onni.

“Heyyyy! If it isn’t my two favorite Hufflepuffs.” Sigrun grinned at them, one arm wrapped around Onni’s neck and the other around Reynir’s. Her broom dug painfully into his shoulder, but he couldn’t help smiling back at her.

“Hi Sigrun!”

On her other side, Onni heaved a sigh. “Sigrun. Please. You’re going to choke him with your broom.”

Sigrun went on as though she hadn’t heard him. “I have great plans today, boys! Onni, you’re on broom basics with the little firsties. Got a whole group of ‘em, is it me or do they get smaller every year? Reynir, I want you to walk the second-years through a passing exercise, then they’re going to try goal shooting with Tuuri while you, Emil, and Lalli do diving drills.”

“Diving drills?” Reynir was vaguely aware of Onni’s voice echoing his, only Onni was frowning instead of giving this the enthusiasm it deserved. “Really?”

“You bet!” Sigrun ruffled his hair. “All three of you have a good chance to make your house teams this year—if the Slytherins don’t take Lalli on to replace their Seeker, they’re crazy—so it’s time to do some agility training. Even though you and Emil are going for Chaser, you never know when you’ll have to dive for the Quaffle.” She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, speak of the devil!” She released her hold on them abruptly. “Hey, little Viking! Grab Twig and get over here, I have exciting plans for you.”

While Sigrun went off to get Emil and Lalli, Reynir turned back to Onni. “Isn’t this awesome? I get to do real Quidditch drills! And—oh, no.” He could read the argument building in the set of Onni’s jaw, the stubborn line of his mouth. “No, look, I promise I’ll be careful, I only plowed into the ground that _one time—”_

“Twice!”

“Those _two_ times, and I’m much better at flying now! Anyway,” he continued, “How am I supposed to get better if I don’t practice? This is a much safer way to learn how to dive than like, a real Quidditch match. And look, we even have a medic in case something happens!” He waved to Mikkel, who had managed to find a chair somewhere and was sitting with his feet propped up on an equipment crate, thermos of tea in one hand and a first aid kit in the other.

Onni opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, closed it, opened it again, and let out a sigh. “Fine. Just...please be careful. And don’t let Sigrun sic any bludgers on you.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not using bludgers until later,” Sigrun said, passing them with Emil in a headlock. Lalli trailed after them—by now, even Sigrun had learned that it was best not to touch him uninvited. “Come on everyone, let’s get started!”

 

* * *

 

No matter how many new spells he learned, flying was still Reynir’s favorite part about going to magic school. There was something thrilling about it, the rush of empty air around him as the broom carried him—mostly—where he wanted to go. The wind whistled in his ears as he sped toward the ground, watching as the red dot in the center of his vision got closer, closer—

“Now!” He couldn’t help shouting as he pulled up, forcing the broom skyward just before he touched the grass. The Quaffle was under his arm, plucked from where they’d set it to levitate. “Yes!”

Beside him, he could see Emil and Lalli had also managed to get their targets. Lalli had a golf ball instead of a Quaffle; it was the best they could do for Seeker training, since they couldn’t use a real Snitch.

“Nice!” Sigrun circled them, beaming with pride. “See, I knew you could get it. Take a break while I check on the newbies, then maybe we can have a little scrimmage.”

Reynir landed reluctantly. If it was up to him, he’d have tried a few more times—no matter what Sigrun said, he wasn’t convinced he’d make the team this year. He needed all the practice he could get. But now that he was on the ground, he _was_ pretty thirsty, and the bruises from his failed attempts were starting to hurt. Shouldering his broom, he headed for the water station.

“That last dive was awesome!” Dagny said, clapping Reynir on the shoulder. “And you guys too, of course,” she added, nodding to Emil and Lalli as they passed by, “but that’s the first time you’ve done one that clean, right Reynir?”

Reynir took a swallow of water and nodded. “Yeah! I’m getting better.” This was the other nice thing about Quidditch: it came with friends who loved to fly as much as he did.

“I’m surprised Onni let you do it, though,” Dagny continued, “he seemed pretty freaked out the first time.”

Reynir looked over at Onni, who was still working with the first years. He seemed totally engrossed in making sure Kjersti was sitting on her broom the right way; there was no sign of any freaking out. “Are you sure?”

“Aww, yeah, he was so worried,” one of the other girls said. Reynir remembered her from other years: Jonna Kuikka, one of the Gryffindor Beaters. Sigrun had roped most of the Gryffindor team into helping her run these practices. “I think it’s kind of sweet, actually. He’s all prickly with everyone, but with you he’s such a softie.”

“I heard him tell Sigrun that if you got hurt, he was going to jinx her so hard she’d never sit on a broom again,” said another girl—Vilma, he thought her name was. “I wish _my_ boyfriend was that concerned about me.” Dagny and Jonna nodded sagely.

“He said that?” Reynir shook his head. He could believe it; Onni could be protective. But— “We’re not...he’s not my _boyfriend_ though. We’re just best friends.”

“Uh huh. Suuure.” Jonna and Vilma exchanged knowing glances.

Reynir didn’t know what to do with that. “Really! There’s nothing—why would you think that?” He looked to Dagny for help.

Dagny just shrugged. “Hey, you two _are_ really close. I don’t know Onni that well, but everyone can see he cares about you. And you’re always with him, so I guess people think—it just looks a certain way, you know?”

“But I...but we…” Reynir had never been more confused. He loved spending time with Onni, of _course_ he did, they were best friends! And sure, he knew Onni wasn’t close with a lot of other people apart from his family. That was just how Onni was; not everyone made friends as easily as Reynir did. Just because they were closer to each other than to anyone else, that didn’t mean they were _dating._ Did it?

Luckily, Sigrun came over and interrupted the conversation before Reynir could get any more flustered. “All right, break’s over! We’re going to pick teams for the scrimmage.” As the group headed over to where Tuuri waited with the team colors, Sigrun pulled Reynir aside. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Reynir blinked. “Talk about…?”

“Having a crush is hard! And Onni—well, no judgment, but I don’t imagine he’s a big ‘talk about our feelings’ kind of guy. You’ll get there eventually.” Reynir just stared at her, which she took as encouragement to continue. “But hey, if you do ever want advice, you can always talk to me! You might say I have a bit of experience when it comes to wooing Hotakainens.” She winked, punched him in the arm, and strode off to organize the teams.

Reynir stood where he was, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Did people really think—? Did he and Onni really act like they were—? He’d noticed more and more of his classmates starting to get interested in each other, and plenty of people had been on dates or agonized over their crushes. But it all seemed to be a lot of fluttery feelings, giggling in corridors or sighing over someone who barely noticed them. Reynir never felt like _that_ with Onni. It was nice to be around him, to talk about whatever he was thinking and to hear what Onni had to say. Things were comfortable between them. He’d never felt the need to doodle Onni’s name on his homework with little hearts around it.

“Are you all right?” Onni was there, leaning close to look into his eyes. “You didn’t hit your head doing those drills, did you? I _told_ Sigrun—”

Relief settled over him like a warm blanket. This was nice, it was normal. No urges to sing from the rooftops or turn into a blushing mess. Clearly, everyone else was just confused. “Sorry! I got lost in thought,” he said. He slung an arm around Onni and headed towards the others. He didn’t know why he’d been so worried. Onni was his best friend; nothing was going to change that.

 

* * *

 

“Have I mentioned that I think this is a terrible idea?” Onni gripped his broom tight, one-handed. “Because I do. It is. Someone is going to die.”

“No one is going to _die,_ Onni,” Tuuri said. She hovered in front of the center goal, eyes ahead. The Chasers were down at the other end, but that could change in an instant. “Bludgers are a normal part of Quidditch. We have to get used to them! And we have Beaters to watch out for us.”

Onni was not at all reassured. He hefted the club in his free hand and eyed the equipment crate on the ground. “I still don’t see why Sigrun made me a—oh _no.”_ Mikkel was leaning over the crate, working on the leather straps holding the last two balls in place. He backed up quickly, and two bludgers shot into the air. “Oh no oh no oh no.”

There was no time to think then. There was only flying, pursuing the bludgers as they sped towards the other players. Onni was vaguely aware that the people around him were wearing team colors, and that he was only really supposed to be protecting the ones in orange. But he couldn’t help himself. If he saw one of the iron balls veering toward someone, he flew to intercept it. It wasn’t always easy, especially as the Chasers flew harder on each other’s heels. The Quaffle changed hands; people scored, and the younger students watching from below cheered and shouted. Eventually a whistle blew, signaling the end of the match—since they couldn’t play with a real Snitch, they simply set a timer. Onni blinked, slowly coming back to himself. It was over. Everyone was okay.

“That was awesome!” Reynir flew up beside him, turning circles in his excitement. “Did you see? I actually scored a goal! And I only dropped the Quaffle twice, and—”

_CRACK_

Pure instinct was all that saved them. Onni caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and his reflexes took over. Between one blink and the next, the bludger that had been headed directly for Reynir’s face went spiraling down.

_THUMP_

It struck the ground hard, leaving a trail of uprooted grass. It tried to rise again, but one of the players on the ground tackled it. People shouted for Mikkel to bring the box.

In the air, Onni’s hands shook. His white-knuckled grip on the club slowly loosened; the club dropped from his hands. He didn’t bother to watch it fall. He was too busy staring horror-struck at Reynir. “That...it almost…”

Reynir had gone milk white beneath his freckles. “Oh my god.” He looked down at the distant ground, then back at Onni, and then the ground was a lot closer because Reynir had tackled him, broom and all. “Oh my god, that was so _cool,_ you saved me! That could have knocked me right off my broom, but you were all ‘WHAM’ and ‘POW’ and you just hit it without even looking and—”

They descended in a mess of limbs and broom bristles. When they reached the ground, other people joined in with the congratulations. Onni just stood there, numbly clinging to Reynir and trying to get his balance back. His knees didn’t seem to want to hold him. Someone took his broom away, and someone else was calling for people to give them space, and then Onni had Reynir by the shoulders and started shaking him.

“You could have _died!_ I said it was dangerous, I was so sure something bad would happen, and it _did_ and you—” His words cut off as Reynir threw his arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug. He gulped air and let it out in long, shuddering sighs.

“It’s all right,” Reynir said. His voice was muffled by Onni’s shoulder. “I’m all right. You saved me.”

“Quidditch is so stupid, I’m never playing again,” Onni muttered.

“What?” Reynir lifted his head and pulled away slightly.

“I—”

“YOU!” A hand grabbed Onni by the shoulder and spun him around. “Riikka, look! Did you see what he did?” It was one of the Gryffindor Beaters, the girl half of a pair of twins whose names Onni could never keep straight. She dragged him over to another girl who Onni recognized from his classes as Riikka Skärsholm, another Hufflepuff fifth year.

“Jonna, what are you doing to him?” Riikka caught the girl’s hand made her let go of Onni. “Can’t you see he’s had a shock?”

Jonna waved away the rebuke. “Riikka, he’s perfect! I mean, he was good in the match, Joona and I could barely keep up with him. But that last hit—you should totally make him your Beater.”

“What?” Still disoriented from how fast everything was happening, Onni couldn’t put the words together. “What are you talking about?”

Riikka looked him up and down. “I was going to wait and talk to you later—since, you know, you just had a scary experience and _some_ people would want to give you space.” She glared at Jonna, who blushed. “But since you’re here already—they made me the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain this year, and one of our old Beaters graduated last year, so...well, we’re looking for one. And that was some pretty impressive beating you just did.”

Onni shook his head. “No.” He could see where this was going, and he wanted no part in it. “No, no, no no no—”

“Riikka! I didn’t know you were here!” Reynir had caught up with them. “Onni, did you know she’s our Quidditch captain this year? Isn’t that great?” He had that hopeful, excited look again, all traces of his fear from earlier gone. “It’s so cool that you came to watch our club practice. I mean, obviously you’ll have to hold tryouts still, but—”

“No.” Onni caught Reynir by the arm. He felt himself relax a little, having Reynir right there where he could protect him. But he had to make his point. “You can’t tell me you’re _still_ trying out for the team? After that?” He waved vaguely in the air. “Why?”

Reynir shrugged. “Nothing really happened, did it? You did what Beaters are supposed to do. And I love flying, of course I’m still trying out.”

Jonna and Riikka looked from one to the other. Riikka smiled. “Good. Accidents happen of course, but you have to get back on your broom and keep going. I look forward to seeing you at tryouts.” As she took Jonna’s hand and walked away, she called over her shoulder, _“Both_ of you.”

Onni sighed. “You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you.” It wasn’t really a question.

Reynir wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The gesture had no right to be as comforting as it was. “I would never make you do anything you _really_ didn’t want to do! But it sure would be fun to have you on the team.”

When Reynir smiled like that, Onni knew there was no point in arguing, even with himself. He’d sooner take a bludger to the face than refuse.


	2. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the school starts preparing for the annual Yule Ball, Onni must face an unpleasant aspect of his prefect duties. Or, you know, do everything he can to avoid it (and his feelings) while Reynir tries (and fails) to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter? I bet you thought I'd forgotten all about this, nope, I'm just slow. Since I finished a draft of chapter four (the chapters just keep getting longer, oops!) it's time to post this one. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Those of you who have read A Redtail's Dream will notice I've borrowed more characters for this chapter. :)

##  **_November_ **

Between homework and Quidditch practice, Onni didn’t usually take advantage of the weekend outings to Hogsmeade. He didn’t care about buying things, and the empty common room made for quiet studying. But the Saturday after the first snow fell, Reynir teamed up with Tuuri to drag him off to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. 

The place was crowded with other students. Tuuri looked around the room, assessing, and pointed to a table full of third years. “I’m going to get us a place to sit. You two get drinks.” She made her way over and struck up a conversation, smiling and making exuberant hand gestures.

Reynir dug around in his pockets. “Here, let me get the drinks—it’s your birthday soon, I want to treat you!” He pulled out a battered wallet, looked at its contents, and his face fell. “Oh. Oops.”

Onni sighed. “You forgot to exchange your muggle money for real money, didn’t you?” This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know why the money has to be different anyway, it’s so confusing! I mean, _seventeen_ knuts to a sickle?”

“It’s actually...you know what, nevermind,” Onni said. He paid for the drinks, waving away the paper banknote Reynir tried to give him. “Here, help me carry these.” 

When they got to the table, Tuuri was sitting there by herself, no sign of its former occupants. Onni decided he didn’t want to know if she’d used an actual charm or the sheer force of her personality to get rid of them. Whichever it was, she looked decidedly smug about it.

“Thanks again for the drink,” Reynir said, sliding onto the bench opposite Tuuri. He looked out the window at the snow. “I can’t believe winter is here already. It looks so pretty!” 

Onni took the seat next to him and turned to look. It _was_ a nice view. 

From the other side of the table, Tuuri said, “Speaking of winter, I wanted to ask you about dates.”

“WHAT?” Onni whirled to look at her. The smug grin from earlier was even wider.

Reynir leaned forward, face alight with interest. “Oh! Did someone ask you out?” He didn’t seem at all upset by that prospect. He also didn’t seem to notice the strangeness of Tuuri asking the two of them, a perfectly platonic pair of friends with no romantic experience, about dating.

As though she had read his thoughts and judged them, Tuuri said, “No, if I wanted dating advice I wouldn’t ask _Onni._ He’s completely useless when it comes to feelings.”

“Hey!”

“Well, you _are.”_ Tuuri rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I was talking about dates for the Yule Ball. It’s coming up soon, and we’re old enough to go this year!”

Until recently, the Yule Ball had been a rare event. Onni had read enough of the school’s history to know it was traditionally associated with Triwizard tournaments or other special occasions. But at some point the Hogwarts administration had decided to host it annually. Onni suspected this was because they enjoyed watching students tear themselves apart while agonizing over every aspect of it: the dancing, the dress robes, and the all-important dates.

Of course, Onni thought the whole thing was ridiculous. It was a lot of time and effort that could be better used for studying.

“I was old enough to go last year, and I didn’t,” he said. “I’m not going this year either.”

“But you have to!” Tuuri set her mug down hard, slopping butterbeer over the edge. “No, don’t give me that stubborn look. I was talking to Paju—you know her, right? One of the Ravenclaw prefects.”

Onni grimaced. He did know her; she was always competing with him for top of their class. And she was mildly terrifying to deal with in any other situation.

“Well, she was telling me that the prefects have to open the dance this year, to get things started.” Tuuri picked her butterbeer up and took a long sip, coolly appraising him over the foam. _“All_ of the prefects. Which means you have to go, and you’ll need a date.”

Onni’s mouth went suddenly dry. “I...what?!” He hadn’t heard anything about this. Why would they do that? Prefects were supposed to set a good example, but since when did that mean _dancing?_ Surely staying in the common room and studying was just as good, if not better. “Are you serious?”

Tuuri’s smile was really starting to unnerve him. “You could always ask Paju if you don’t believe me.” She leaned her chin on her hand. “So. Any idea who you’re going to ask to the dance? I can’t wait to see you all dressed up. We can take pictures to send to Grandma!”

Instead of answering, Onni slowly lowered his head to the table. There was a sticky patch where someone’s drink had spilled, but he didn’t even care. “Just kill me right now. Please. Someone.”

Reynir was frowning into his butterbeer. “Do we have to take a date, though? I mean, it’s not required, right?” He appeared to be thinking hard.

“No-o,” Tuuri said. Her smile slipped a little. “But most people do. And Onni _does_ have to have someone to dance with.”

“Hmm.” Reynir’s face brightened. “Well, we’ll find someone for him, don’t worry!” He patted Onni’s head. “You’ll be okay, it’s just one dance.” He went back to his butterbeer, and he and Tuuri started on a different topic. Onni let the conversation go on without him, busy with his own thoughts. He knew who he wanted to dance with, if he had to dance. He also knew that he would never, ever ask that person to dance with him; it would ruin everything. But he had to ask someone. His thoughts tripped over each other like figures in an unfamiliar dance; none of the steps made any sense.

* * *

 

##  **_December_ **

Hogwarts at yuletide was even more magical than it was the rest of the year. Reynir always looked forward to it: the evergreen trees decked out with fantastic ornaments, the enchanted snowball fights, the suits of armor that sang carols if you asked them nicely. For his first three years, he’d enjoyed every minute of the festive atmosphere.

This year, there was another layer to all the preparations. The Yule Ball had taken over everything; outside of classes, it was all anyone talked about. At first it had been fun. He liked hearing about the plans for decorations and what people thought the music would be. But as the day approached, talk turned more and more to dates. Groups of students whispered in the corridors, comparing notes about who had asked whom. Reynir noticed a lot of hastily-smothered giggling whenever he walked by.

Reynir knew he was good at making friends. There were so many great people in the world; it wasn’t hard to be nice to them, and most of the time they were nice in return. But it wasn’t so easy for everyone. Onni, for instance, mostly kept to himself. He didn’t like to stray outside of his comfort zone and meet new people—or ask someone to be his date for the ball. That was where Reynir came in.

“So I made a list of all the Quidditch club people who are old enough to go, and I added all the other fifth years because you know them from class. Oh! And some fourth years who are nice. Now, some people are in relationships, so I crossed them off—look, see, Jonna and Riikka are out. The ones with question marks are people I’ve _heard_ have a date already, but I haven’t asked them yet to make sure.” Reynir held out the piece of parchment. “I put little stars next to the people I think are your best options, but of course you don’t have to go with one of them. So, what do you think? Anyone on there who you want to ask?”

Onni recoiled from the parchment as though it was a poisonous snake. “Reynir. What are you doing?” He held his History of Magic book in front of his chest protectively. “We’re supposed to be studying!”

Reynir sighed. Every time he brought up the subject of Yule Ball dates, Onni developed an urgent need to study. “We’ve been doing that for hours. I know for a fact you’ve already done your History of Magic homework, and your next exam isn’t for a week.” He pushed the book down gently. “I’m just trying to help! Look, you don’t even have to do the asking, I’ll ask them for you. Just pick someone.”

“I…” Onni closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Do I have to do this?”

“Apparently you do,” Reynir said. “And you haven’t even looked at the list! I worked really hard on it.” 

“Fine.” Onni opened his eyes and took the page. His frown deepened. “Seriously? You put _Emil_ on here?”

“He’s a third year, he can go if someone asks him!” Reynir held his hands up. “I didn’t think you probably would, but—”

“If I ask Emil to go to the ball,” Onni said, “Lalli will murder me in my sleep. Assuming Emil even said yes, which he obviously wouldn’t.” He took his quill and struck the name. “I don’t even know who half of these people are. Hannu Viitanen?”

Reynir leaned his chin on Onni’s shoulder so he could see the list. “He’s a Slytherin fifth year. You have at least two classes with him. And he’s friends with Paju!”

“Who I see is also on this list,” Onni said. He scribbled with the quill again. “Absolutely not. Again, the point is to get out of this alive.”

This was turning out to be harder than Reynir thought. “Okay, so scary intense ladies are out.” He scanned the list again. “How do you feel about totally sweet guys who wouldn’t hurt a fly?”

Onni was quiet for a moment. “I guess...that would be okay.”

“Great! I know the perfect person.” Reynir took the list back. “He’s a fourth year Hufflepuff. Super friendly, always helping people. Ginger hair, nice smile. Oh, and he does have a best friend who’s kind of a grump, but that just shows he doesn’t judge by first impressions.” He folded the parchment and looked back at Onni, who was staring at him. “What?”

For some reason, Onni’s face was going all red. “I...just...didn’t think you would suggest that.”

Now Reynir was definitely confused. But since this was the most interest Onni had shown in anyone so far, he kept going. “Well of course I’m suggesting him, he’s on the list! Stay here, I’ll go ask him.”

“Ask...him?” The Yule Ball pressure must really have been getting to Onni. He looked like he might explode.

Reynir patted him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “Yep! Leave everything to me. I think he usually studies in the library on Tuesdays.” He left Onni sitting there and headed for the door. Everything was going as planned. He was going to get his best friend a date to the ball, and Onni would have a great time. That was what friends did, wasn’t it?

 

* * *

 

A handful of students greeted Reynir in passing as he made his way to the library. At this time of night, most people were starting to think about relaxing and going back to their common rooms before curfew. But people who had deadlines or who liked to study with friends from other houses would be in the library until it closed. 

As he neared the library, the door opened and the Kuikka twins from Quidditch club came out. “Hey Reynir! You’re out late,” Jonna said. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much, I just have something to take care of.” He waved the parchment with his list on it. “For the Yule Ball, you know.” He wasn’t sure Onni would want it spread around that Reynir was getting a date for him; better to keep it vague.

“Is that so?” Joona grinned at him. “Anything we can help with?”

“Oh, no, I can manage it.” He made to pass by them, then realized that maybe they could help him. “Actually, do you know if—oh! Ville!” Two more people had just left the library, and one of them was the person Reynir was looking for.

Jonna and Joona exchanged a glance. “What do you need Ville for?” Jonna asked.

“Yeah, aren’t you two roommates?” Joona added. “Why come all the way here looking for him?”

It was true; Reynir realized he could have saved this question for later, when Ville was back in their dorm. Maybe it would have been better to do this without an audience. “Oh, uh, yeah. I just had something important to ask him.” It wasn’t a big deal, surely. Other people probably helped their friends get dates to the ball too.

“Reynir! Hi!” Ville and his companion came up to them. “What are you doing out so late? I thought you and Onni usually studied in the common room.”

That was a good sign; Ville had brought Onni up all on his own, so it wouldn’t be weird for Reynir to mention him. “We do! I mean, we were, but I had something important to do. It...actually has to do with Onni. And the Yule Ball.”

At the words “Onni” and “Yule Ball” the twins perked up. Jonna grinned. “Did Onni actually ask you?” She nudged her brother. “Pay up!”

“What? No!” Reynir tried to ignore Jonna’s crestfallen expression and kept going. “See, Onni has to have a date because he’s a prefect. But he’s so shy, I think he’s kind of nervous to ask anyone. I want to help! So I was wondering—”

“Aww!” Joona wrapped an arm around Reynir’s shoulders. “So you’re going to ask him instead, that’s great!” He held out his other hand. “Jonna, if you would—”

“No no no.” Reynir squirmed away. This was going all wrong. He should have waited to talk to Ville in private. Now his other friends were getting everything confused! It was just like that time at Quidditch club when everyone thought he and Onni were dating. The more he tried to correct them, the less they seemed to understand.

As Reynir looked around the group, hoping for some help, he caught a glimpse of someone who seemed to understand exactly what was going on. Hannu had kept quiet ever since he and Ville came from the library, but now he was looking from Reynir to Ville with a calculating expression. When he caught Reynir watching, he frowned.

Reynir tried one more time. “Look, Ville, I just wanted to ask you—”

“Say, Ville, speaking of the ball.” The twins cut off their teasing and looked at Hannu, startled. He rolled his eyes at them. “Do you want to go with me? No big deal, but, you know. Whatever.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Ville’s face lit up. “Oh! That sounds great, Hannu! We’ll have lots of fun!” He caught Hannu in a hug, which Hannu allowed with a resigned expression. Ville beamed at Reynir. “See, if Hannu can do it, I’m sure you can! Good luck!” The two of them started to walk away. Reynir could have sworn that for just a moment, Hannu smirked at him.

“Well. That was...unexpected.” Joona said. He watched them go.

Jonna smiled. “Not _that_ unexpected.” She slapped her brother on the shoulder. “I think someone owes me a galleon.”

“Not if—I mean, uh, let’s just wait and see how things go at the ball,” Joona said. He was looking at Reynir. “Good luck asking Onni!”

“Or getting him to ask you!” Jonna added.

When the twins had gone, Reynir slumped against the wall with a sigh. That hadn’t gone at all like he’d hoped it would. Not only did he have to scratch two people off his list, but the whole group had the wrong impression about him and Onni. If that rumor spread around, it would be much harder to find Onni a real date for the ball.

But Reynir wasn’t going to give up. He’d promised to help, so he wouldn’t rest until he’d done what he said he would. There were still plenty of people on the list: nice, kind, friendly people who would make Onni’s first Yule ball a good one. He just had to ask the right one.

Feeling determined, Reynir straightened up and strode to the library door. Time to see who else was up late studying.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, uh, sorry! I actually was planning to ask someone else. And look, I see her now, gotta go!”

Reynir gave a halfhearted wave. “Okay, thanks anyway.” He headed back towards his table, not bothering to cross the latest name off his list. There weren’t any left to cross off.

He sank into his chair and put his head down on his notes. “It’s official, I am the worst friend ever.”

Onni said nothing, simply sighed and moved the ink bottle aside before Reynir’s hair could fall into it. Tuuri glanced up from her Muggle Studies essay and rolled her eyes. “I’ll say. You’re supposed to be helping me study, not moping around.”

The ball was two days away, and despite his best efforts, he still hadn’t found a date for Onni. It wasn’t for lack of trying—he’d asked _everyone_ he could think of, including people who he was pretty sure already had dates. But somehow, everyone he asked had either found a date already, was planning to ask someone, or got asked right as he was getting around to doing the asking. Clearly he had rotten timing as well as bad luck.

“Tuuri, this is serious! I promised Onni I would help him, and what have I done? Nothing. I’m a failure. This whole plan was stupid.” Maybe he should have been helping Onni find a way to get out of dancing instead. They could have pretended he was sick, or staged a protest about forcing people to dance. 

Tuuri set her quill down. “Seriously? Reynir, you’ve been running around with that stupid list for weeks. It’s not your fault! Onni’s the one who should have been asking people. But he’d rather sulk and let you do all the work! Have you even _thought_ about asking someone yourself, Onni?”

Onni’s head jerked up. “I’m not sulking!” he said, indignant. “I just don’t see what the point of this is. Why do I have to dance with someone in front of the whole school? And with someone who probably doesn’t even want to dance with me?” He pointed to Reynir’s list. “I bet at least half of these people don’t really have dates, they just don’t want to be mine. And who would?” With that, he shoved his books into his bag and stormed off.

They stared after him for a long moment. “Wow,” Tuuri said, “I guess he _has_ been thinking about it.”

Reynir stood. “I should go after him. He’s all upset, why did you do that?”

“Sit. Down.” There was steel in Tuuri’s voice, and in her eyes when Reynir dropped into his chair and looked at her. “Look, I said what I did because it’s true. Before you go running after him, I want you to think hard about something. In all of this, has Onni ever expressed an interest in someone? Did he ever bring up the subject on his own?”

“Yes! He...well...no.” Now that Reynir thought about it, all of their conversations on the subject had been started by him. “But he’s not good with new people, you know that!”

Tuuri took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “Right, yes. But who said he has to go to the ball with someone new?” She met Reynir’s eyes. “You’re both overlooking the obvious solution here.”

“We—what?” Reynir stared at her. He’d been so careful to ask everyone. All the people Onni knew, all the ones he didn’t but might like...who else was there? “I don’t understand.”

“You really don’t?” Tuuri shook her head. “The person I’m talking about is _sitting at this table,_ Reynir!”

_Oh._ “Of course!” Reynir stood again, and this time Tuuri made no effort to stop him. “You’re right, he doesn’t need to have some big romantic night! He doesn’t want that.” For some reason, the thought was a relief. “Paju only said he has to _dance_ with someone, so this is perfect.” He gathered up his books. “I’m sure he’ll be much more comfortable with the whole idea now, too. My brothers and sisters and I dance all the time, it’s fun!” He smiled at Tuuri, who was watching him with wide eyes. “I wish I’d thought of this earlier, but thanks for offering now. I’m sure Onni will be relieved to know you’ll open the dance with him.” Still smiling, he set off to find Onni and tell him the good news. 

Behind him, Tuuri laid her head on the table and started to laugh.

 

* * *

 

Even though Onni was half-expecting it, he felt himself tense when someone pushed the bed curtains aside. He stayed wrapped in his blankets with his face turned away and lay still. Was his breathing even? He couldn’t tell. Hopefully the intruder couldn’t, either.

“I know you’re awake,” Reynir said. “It’s way too early for you to be asleep.” The mattress shifted under him, and he heard the curtains close again. A warm weight settled against his back. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But I did find a solution to your problem.”

Onni opened his eyes. “You did?” Some of the pressure in his chest eased.

“Yeah.” Reynir shifted a little, getting comfortable. “Or Tuuri did, really. She’s going to dance with you to open the ball. You don’t really need a date.”

“Oh.” Onni felt a pang of—disappointment? No, it must be relief. He rolled over to face Reynir. “She offered to do that?”

The dim light softened the angles of Reynir’s face. His smile was just as sweet as always, though. “It was her idea.” He yawned. “Is it okay with you?” 

It surprised Onni that Tuuri would do that after her outburst. She’d seemed...upset with him. Almost like she expected him to ask someone in particular to the dance, and was getting frustrated with him for not doing it. For a moment, he’d almost thought she had guessed—but no. Onni wasn’t even convinced of those feelings himself. And if Tuuri suspected, she wouldn’t have made this offer.

“It’s fine with me,” he said at last. And then, “Shouldn’t you be in your own bed?” Reynir’s eyes had closed, and his breathing was slowing down. 

“Mmm.” Reynir didn’t move. “In a minute.”

Onni sighed and sat up. When Reynir said ‘in a minute’ he really meant he was going to fall asleep right where he was unless Onni moved him. “Fine. Here.” He unwound one of his blankets and draped it over Reynir. Early as it was, he didn’t much feel like hauling his friend up to the fourth-year dorm. It had been an exhausting few weeks for both of them. “Good night.”

“G’night.” 

Onni rolled back over to face the wall. All things considered, it was for the best that Reynir had worked out this solution with Tuuri. He’d done his best to act like he wasn’t bothered, but the stress of not having a date had been getting to him. Once or twice he’d nearly broken down and done something he’d regret. 

_I can’t ask him to go to the ball with me. Not like that, not as a date._ Reynir had spent weeks trying to find someone else to go with him. Why would he do that if he didn’t think the whole idea of _them_ going together was ridiculous? And it _was_ ridiculous, when Onni thought about it. No matter what new feelings came along, he couldn’t risk what he had with Reynir. They were best friends. He had no right to ask for anything more.

Onni wasn’t very good at friendship, but by now he’d figured out a thing or two. It was perfectly normal for best friends to help each other get dates. And it was normal, apparently, for them to sleep in the same bed when they were both too tired to move. But best friends didn’t ask _each other_ on dates. Did they?

He fell asleep with the sound of Reynir’s breathing in his ears, no closer to answering the question.

 

* * *

 

The common room bustled with activity. Knots of students clustered around the stairs to the dorms, exclaiming over dress robes and hairstyles as people emerged. Everyone seemed to be overflowing with excitement...except for Onni, who hunched in an armchair by the fire and tried not to overflow with nerves.

Once he and Reynir were ready, the two of them would meet Tuuri at the ball. For Onni, getting ready simply meant replacing his normal robes with dress robes; for Reynir, it evidently involved something more complicated, because he still hadn’t come down. When Onni passed by his room earlier, there had been a group of girls outside it giggling and calling for hair products.

Logically, he knew there was no real reason to be nervous. The dancing would be awkward, but it would be over soon. Then he and Reynir could find a quiet corner and just...well, not dance. Not that Reynir had to be there, of course. It wasn’t like he was _going to the ball with Reynir_. They were just...going to the ball. Together. As individuals. 

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d actually start to believe it.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone spoke behind him.

“Hey! You look nice.” 

‘Nice’ was not the word for how Reynir looked. It fell far short of the mark. Then again, there might not _be_ a word that could adequately describe him: the blue-green robes scattered with white specks like seafoam, the red hair tidied into neat braids and coiled in a crown around his head, and the blinding smile that made something in Onni’s chest flutter like a day-old chick. Maybe ‘breathtaking’ would be a better choice, because it was suddenly hard to breathe.

_“Wow.”_ Onni realized he was staring and shook himself. “Uh. I mean, you look good too.” 

“Isn’t it great?” Reynir twirled, making the skirt of his robes flare around him. “Fancy clothes in the muggle world aren’t _nearly_ as fun! Sorry I made you wait, though. I asked Riikka to help with my hair, and some of the other girls decided to join in, and well,” he gestured at his head, “it took a while.”

Onni nodded. “I can imagine.” He understood the basic principles of braiding, but this looked like it had been done by some kind of magic. Maybe it had been. “Ah... should we go?”

“Yeah!” Reynir offered a hand to help Onni up. “We don’t want to keep Tuuri waiting.”

Right. Tuuri. For a moment, Onni had forgotten the plan. It was all too easy to forget, with Reynir’s hand in his. 

Coherent thought didn’t get any easier as they reached the great hall. Someone had gone all-out with the decorations: in addition to the usual evergreen trees, there were graceful ice sculptures of various magical creatures, tables piled high with food, and fairy lights—actual fairies, Onni thought—scattered throughout the room. Snow fell from somewhere near the starry ceiling, melting before it reached the floor.

All of that would have been overwhelming enough, but the students milling around, all decked out in different styles and colors, simply added to the chaos. Onni could feel his pulse racing. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to worry about. These were the same people he saw every day, the same room where he ate all his meals. But it was all so different now, and he wasn’t about to sit in quiet obscurity at his usual familiar table. He had to—he had to—

“Come on,” he choked out, “We have to find Tuuri.” 

Reynir tore his gaze from the magic snow. A slight frown wrinkled his brow when he looked at Onni. “Are you all right?”

Onni simply shook his head. What else was there to say?

Reynir seemed to realize what he meant, though. “Okay. We’ll find her. Don’t worry.” He slipped his arm through Onni’s and steered him towards the crowd.

Despite Reynir’s reassurances, Tuuri was nowhere to be found. When questioned, no one could remember seeing her. The other Slytherins seemed to think she might still be in the common room, or had come to the ball but was just somewhere out of sight. Reynir thanked them for their help—Onni’s mouth was too dry—and moved on to the next person.

“I’m sure she’s here somewhere,” Reynir said. “She was so excited for the ball, she’s probably just taking extra time to get ready.” He looked around again. “Come on, let’s get out of the crowd. Maybe it’ll be easier to spot her that way.” They took a path that cut across the dance floor, heading towards the far wall.

_“There_ you are!” Before they could fully escape the crush, someone seized Onni by the back of his robe and swung him around. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

For a fleeting instant, Onni had thought it was Tuuri. So he was in no mood for it to be Paju instead. “I’ve been here the whole time! Now excuse me, I need to find my sister.” He pulled out of her grasp and turned away.

“Excuse _me,_ but I need you to stay right here!” Paju moved to block his path. “I have all the other prefects together, it’s time to start this thing. This is going to be the _best ball ever,_ and _you_ are not going to ruin it!” She punctuated the last few words with a sharp finger to Onni’s chest. 

“But...but Tuuri is supposed to…” Onni began. 

Paju was having none of it. “Come _on_ you two! Over here.” She dragged Onni—and by extension, Reynir—over to a cluster of other prefects. Most of them edged away as Paju approached. “Right. Everyone has their partner? Great.” She left no time for Onni to say that no, he didn’t, that was the whole problem. “Get ready to dance, I’ll tell them to start the music.” With that, she shoved Reynir into Onni and stalked over to where the musicians waited.

Onni caught Reynir around the waist to steady him. “Are you okay?” 

Reynir looked just as confused as Onni felt, but he regained his footing. “Yeah. I don’t know why she has to be so mean! It’s rude to push people.” He made no effort to move away from Onni though. “And, uh...I don’t know where Tuuri is, but I think...well, Paju will kill us if you leave the dance floor now. So…” he took a deep breath, “Since we’re already here…I guess I could?” He offered a hand. 

“What? Oh. OH.” Onni said. A strange calm had settled over him. His heart might have been working overtime, but his thoughts slowed down like molasses in winter. In some ways it felt like this was always going to happen. “I suppose...yes. If that’s okay with you?” If Reynir said no, Onni was going to leave the ball right now, Paju or no Paju.

But Reynir only smiled and said, “Of course. I wouldn’t just _leave_ you here.” He reached down and caught Onni’s hand. “Let’s dance.”

Onni was barely aware of the music playing or the other people dancing around them. He had no way of knowing if their steps were actually right for the song, because all he could hear was his heartbeat and Reynir’s little laugh every time one of them misstepped. He noticed, vaguely, that he was laughing too, and that Reynir smiled every time he did. Mostly though, he was aware of Reynir’s hands on him, of his hands on Reynir, and of their bodies moving together in a fumble-footed kind of harmony. 

He only knew it was over because Reynir pulled him into a hug, holding him tight until the world stopped spinning. “You did it,” he whispered in Onni’s ear, “See? It’s over. You’re okay.” And then, loosening his grip, “Let’s go find a place to sit, I’ll get you a drink.”

 

* * *

 

Reynir was relieved to find Onni still sitting where he’d left him. There had been a line at the drinks table, and people kept stopping him to talk about his hair and his clothes and how great the ball was. Normally, Reynir wouldn’t have minded; he’d spent a lot of time on his hair, everyone’s dress robes were gorgeous, and the ball _was_ great. But he was worried about Onni. The stress of the past weeks hadn’t been easy, and being left alone in a crowded room wasn’t likely to do Onni’s nerves any good. He’d seemed tense all evening. And yet, when they’d danced together...for a moment, everything had felt right.

“Any sign of Tuuri?” Onni asked, cradling the cup of punch Reynir handed him as though it might break. He studied the liquid inside—pink, with little gold sparkles—and took a hesitant sip. His eyes closed, and his mouth relaxed into a tiny smile so quick Reynir almost missed it. A drop of punch had escaped his lips, and Reynir had a sudden urge to catch it with his finger before it could fall. 

_What? That’s weird, why did I think that?_ Reynir shook his head and took a sip of his own drink to cool his sudden blush. “No, but there were a lot of people…” he trailed off, hating the way Onni’s face fell. “Maybe we could go looking for her again?” The music had changed to something upbeat, and the dance floor was much more lively. It wouldn’t be easy to find someone in the crowd.

Onni looked at the mass of dancers and shuddered. “Not yet.”

In the end, Tuuri was the one who found them. Reynir was eyeing Onni’s empty glass and considering another foray to the punchbowl when suddenly a group of people descended on their table.

“Careful of the punch, Joona spiked it,” Jonna said. She took a long drink from her own glass.

“Wait, was _I_ supposed to do that? I thought it was your job,” Joona said. “Now, we don’t want to be a bother, but we need to settle a question of who asked who to the dance—hey!”

The twins were pushed roughly aside. “Look at these two! All dressed up and hiding in the corner.” Sigrun had her arm around Tuuri’s waist, and she must have been wearing heels because she was even taller than usual. “Heard you were on the dance floor earlier, though.” She winked at Reynir, letting go of Tuuri to punch him on the shoulder.

“Onni! You’re actually wearing the dress robes I bought you!” Tuuri flung herself on her brother. Her dress was the color of the sky at dusk, indigo with hints of violet. It blended well with Onni’s deep blue star-scattered dress robes.

Onni pushed her away, grumbling, “Only because you burned my other ones. And where have you _been?”_ His face was going red around the edges. “I thought something happened to you!”

“Sorry! We got a little...distracted,” Tuuri said. She glanced at Sigrun, who winked. Tuuri blushed.

Onni noticed. “Wait. You two are—you two…” He lurched to his feet and pointed at Sigrun. “YOU? And my SISTER?”

Sigrun shrugged. “Uh, yeah? We weren’t really keeping it a secret.”

Tuuri casually interposed herself between the two of them. “And it’s not like anyone asked _me_ if I had a date to the ball.” She cast a pointed look at Reynir.

“I can’t _believe_ this.” Onni threw up his hands. “I’m going for a walk.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, Reynir looked helplessly at Tuuri. “I don’t...I don’t think he’s really mad about Sigrun.” In hindsight, it should have been obvious. The two had been spending a lot of time together, and they never _had_ asked Tuuri who she was going with. Reynir had just been too busy to think it through. “But...why did you tell me you would dance with him?”

Tuuri sighed. “I _didn’t,_ that’s what _you_ said. And it all worked out, didn’t it? You finally found someone for him to dance with.”

“Yes, but—me?” That wasn’t how the whole ‘get your best friend a date to the ball’ thing worked. 

“Why not?” Tuuri demanded. “Honestly, Reynir. I can’t think of anyone at this school he’d rather dance with.” She took Sigrun’s hand. “Now go on, I know you’re dying to run after him. Try to get him to enjoy himself for the rest of the ball, okay?” With that, she turned and walked away.

Reynir looked sadly at the remnants of his punch. He didn’t think the twins actually had spiked it. Part of him wished they had. Shaking his head, he drained his glass and went to find Onni.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes it was easier to be an owl. His feathers insulated him from the worst of the cold, and his instincts muffled his human anxieties. He could fly through the quiet night, watch the shadows on the snow for signs of movement, and think of nothing but the hunt.

Other times, even the owl form wasn’t enough. The wind ruffled his feathers and he thought of swirling robes; his claws closed over a branch and he remembered a warm hand clutching his. No matter how far the owl flew, free and alone, the human remembered how it felt to dance with someone.


	3. Phoenix Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reynir learns about wizarding childhood ailments. Onni befriends a tree.
> 
> Or, the chapter that required the addition of the Hurt/Comfort tag. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm not quite done writing chapter 5 yet (I'm trying to keep a 2-chapter buffer) but I'm impatient and this chapter has just been sitting around waiting to go, so I decided to go ahead and post it. Hopefully that won't come back to haunt me later.
> 
> Also this chapter is a Long One, so hopefully it'll tide you all over for a while. :)

##  **_January_ **

There was no rule that the prefects had to sit together on the train back from the holidays. There was also no rule that family members had to sit together, so Reynir ignored Onni’s protests and dragged him off to the first empty compartment he could find. “You need a break. She needs a break. Lalli probably needs a break from both of you.” 

After his argument with Tuuri at the Yule Ball, Onni had gone off to hide in the owlery. It had taken Reynir ages to find him, and even longer to convince him to come back to the party. No matter how he tried, Onni refused to talk to—or dance with—anyone. He’d spent the whole time glaring at Tuuri as she danced with Sigrun.

The few owls they’d exchanged over the holiday had painted a grim picture of the Hotakainen family’s Christmas. Onni was still upset, which led to ‘sulking, hovering, and generally being a huge grump’ according to the note scrawled in Tuuri’s handwriting at the bottom of one of Onni’s letters. Reynir doubted this had done anything to improve their relationship.

When Reynir asked about it though, all Onni did was shake his head and slouch down in the window seat. “My holiday was fine. How was yours?” He sounded tired, and they hadn’t even started classes yet.

At least the question gave Reynir an opportunity to cheer Onni up. He launched into a description of all the ‘weird muggle holiday traditions’ he could remember, including some of the things that _weren’t_ traditions no matter what his siblings said. He could feel Onni relaxing the longer he talked; the shoulder he was using as a pillow got less tense. Onni actually laughed when he described how he’d waited on the roof for Santa one year, convinced that he’d get an extra present. By the time the train started moving, it felt like things were getting back to normal.

Then the compartment door opened and a pair of familiar faces looked in. “Is there space here?” Riikka and Jonna had already changed into their school robes—or maybe they’d been wearing them for a while, because Jonna’s looked like she had slept in them.

“Sure!” The word was out of Reynir’s mouth before he realized that maybe Onni wasn’t in the mood for company. But Onni only shrugged and went back to looking out the window. He seemed to get along with Riikka, and Jonna was less likely to tease without her twin around. It would probably be fine.

Riikka sat down across from them with a smile. “Thanks. Paju and Tuomi are fighting _again_ , and we were hoping for a more peaceful ride.”

Jonna sprawled bonelessly next to her and pillowed her head on Riikka’s lap. “Ugh. I never thought I’d be glad for school to start.”

“Rough holiday?” Reynir asked. He knew Jonna’s dad ran a bakery—it was a busy time of year for them. 

“The _worst,”_ Jonna said. “We got through the holiday rush okay, but then our baby sister Oona got the phoenix flu.” 

“The what?” Reynir said, just as Onni stirred beside him and said “Oh _no.”_

Jonna and Riikka both stared. “You don’t know about the phoenix flu?”

Reynir shook his head. Onni was staring at him too, brows furrowed. “Is it like the wizard name for bird flu?”

“No, it’s—lots of kids get it. Seems to go around our village every few years,” Riikka said. “Once you’ve had it you don’t get it again, but it’s nasty.”

Onni nodded. “High fever. Sleep problems, joint aches. Hallucinations, sometimes, if it’s really bad. And of course the glowing thing.” He gave Reynir a searching look. “You really never had it?”

“I...no. I’ve never even _heard_ of it. What kind of flu makes you glow?” If it had been anyone else telling him, he wouldn’t have believed it. But Onni wouldn’t make this up.

“A bloody awful one,” Jonna said. “We had to tie Oona to her bed, she kept sleepwalking. Took forever to get the fever down, too.” She closed her eyes. “She’s doing better now, but it feels like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

Reynir shivered. “Wow. I’m glad I missed that.” Onni was still watching him with that worried look. “What?”

“It’s—nothing,” Onni said. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just…” He glanced at Jonna. “They don’t quite know how it spreads. And I’ve heard it’s a lot worse if you get it when you’re older.”

“Oh.” Reynir thought about that, then shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I never get sick!”

 

* * *

 

Even though it was the first week back, the professors gave them a mountain of homework over the weekend. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get through this,” Reynir grumbled, covering his face with his Transfiguration textbook. “Will you turn me into a frog so I don’t have to go to class?”

“We’re not allowed to do human transfiguration,” Onni said absently, turning a page. “And you’d get a lot more done if you didn’t put your book down every few minutes. Or, I don’t know, maybe try sitting up.” 

“I can’t focus when I do that,” Reynir complained. In all honesty, he was having trouble focusing even lying down. His head hurt. 

Something in his voice must have given that away, because Onni actually looked up from his book. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Reynir said. “Just...tired. I think I’ll go to bed.” It was early, but he wasn’t getting anything done anyway. “Quidditch club tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Onni continued to watch him as he pushed himself upright. He really _was_ tired; his books seemed heavier than usual. “Are you sure you feel okay?”

It was kind of nice, how Onni worried about him. “I’m sure. All I need is some sleep.” It was only a little headache. 

 

* * *

 

Reynir’s head felt better in the morning, though the rest of his body was weirdly stiff. He chalked it up to a restless night; for all his good intentions, it had taken him a while to fall asleep. The crisp morning air and the exercise would take care of that, though. 

His good mood dimmed a little when he got to Quidditch club and found several of their regulars were missing. “What’s with the small crowd today?” he asked Emil, waiting off to the side while Sigrun set tasks for the younger students. “Did everyone decide to sleep in?”

Emil grimaced. “I heard there’s some sickness going around the first years. Must be something they picked up over the holidays.” He eyed the remaining first years warily, as though they might start sneezing on him at any second. “They’d better not spread it to everyone else.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” Mikkel said, arriving with his first aid kit. “I just checked a second year and two third years into the hospital wing.”

The disdain on Emil’s face deepened to disgust. “Oh _no._ Don’t come near me, what if they’ve infected you?” He held his sleeve over his mouth and nose and backed away.

Mikkel raised an eyebrow. “Your caution does you credit, but I suspect it’s not necessary.” He turned his attention to Reynir. “You, though. How do you feel?”

Weird how everyone kept asking him that. He’d never been sick in three and a half years here—he wasn’t planning to start now. “I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Only Mikkel could manage such a careless shrug. “No real reason. Just that all the afflicted students are muggle-born.”

Well that didn’t make any sense. “So? What does that have to do with anything? It’s not like being from a muggle family makes me more likely to get sick, does it?”

“No, of course not,” Mikkel said, “It has nothing to do with your family, it’s just that certain illnesses—”

“Oi, don’t let him get started on the infirmary talk, we’ll be here all day.” Sigrun arrived in a flurry of movement: a punch for Mikkel’s arm, a slap to Emil’s back and a quick ruffle of Reynir’s hair. “Mikkel, keep an eye on the first years, some of them look ready to fall off their brooms. As for you two,” she turned her attention to Reynir and Emil, “Let’s see how much you’ve forgotten over the break.”

Reynir was much too busy then to worry about some mysterious illness. He and Emil were more or less evenly matched as Chasers; they’d played against each other in a real match that fall, and although Gryffindor had won in the end, Reynir had managed to score almost as many goals as Emil had. It only made sense for them to practice together during Quidditch club.

Today though, Reynir felt sluggish and clumsy on his broom. It took real effort to keep up with Emil, and he kept missing simple passes. It didn’t help when he noticed Onni giving him worried looks from the sidelines. _He_ was supposed to be demonstrating basic Beater technique to a group of second years, but every time Reynir looked at him his attention seemed to be elsewhere. _Maybe,_ Reynir thought, just barely catching the Quaffle before it fell, _he’s trying to avoid Tuuri._ The two of them still weren’t talking. It made Quidditch club awkward, because apparently Onni didn’t want to talk to Sigrun either, and she was in charge.

It was a relief when Sigrun blew her whistle and called for a break. He only half attended to what Emil was saying—it involved phrases like ‘let yourself go’ and ‘getting sloppy’—and headed for the water station. No sooner had he gotten there than Onni was next to him, looming like an oncoming storm.

“Did you have a fight with Tuuri again?” Reynir asked, helping himself to water. Flying so much had made him thirsty. “You look upset.”

Onni bristled. _“I_ look upset? What’s wrong with _you?_ Your flying is usually much better, it’s like you’re a first year all over again. Are you _sure_ you’re feeling all right?” He laid the back of his hand on Reynir’s forehead. “Your face is warm.”

Normally Reynir liked it when Onni reached out for him—it happened so rarely—but he wasn’t in the mood for it. “Of course my face is warm! It’s cold out here, and I’ve been using up a lot of energy.” He picked up Onni’s hand and moved it to Onni’s face instead. “See? You’re warm too.”

Onni didn’t look convinced. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” Reynir squeezed Onni’s hand and let go. “Come on, I think we’re starting again.”

 

* * *

 

It was a good thing Quidditch club happened in the morning, because as Saturday went on Reynir’s headache returned. It seemed like everyone who came through the common room was just a little too loud, making it nearly impossible to focus on his homework. Clearly he’d spent too much time goofing off over break and had to get used to studying again.

Also, someone must have moved their usual sofa closer to the fire, because it was far too warm. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable like he usually could. Nice as it was to have his head on Onni’s shoulder, the angle made his neck hurt, and when he tried laying with his head in Onni’s lap his back protested. After he’d changed position for the third time in ten minutes, Onni let out a frustrated growl.

“Reynir. If you don’t stop fidgeting, I will—” He paused, assessing Reynir’s condition. “Are you sure you’re—” At Reynir’s frown, he stopped short. Reynir was just as glad; he suspected that sentence ended with ‘feeling okay’. He was getting tired of being asked that question. Eventually, Onni said, “You’ve been quiet. Do you need help with that Transfiguration essay?”

Reynir sighed with relief and passed it over. He’d managed to write _something,_ at least. And if Onni was gentler in his corrections than usual...well. Everyone had an off day now and then. He was lucky to have a best friend who noticed that kind of thing.

“I think it’s going to be another early night,” he said when Onni had made the last of his corrections. “Thanks for the help with the essay. I’ll get up early tomorrow and finish it.”

Onni didn’t look surprised at this announcement, but the worried lines in his forehead were back. “Reynir,” he said, hesitant, “You will go to the hospital wing tomorrow if you still feel strange. Right?”

Reynir looked away. “I don’t feel sick! And if the hospital wing is full of sick people, that’s really the _last_ place I should go.”

_“Promise me.”_ Onni’s voice was thick with worry. “Please? I know you’d do the same if it was me.”

“I—” He wanted to protest, but Onni had a point; he would do anything to make sure his best friend stayed safe and healthy. And Onni was only trying to do the same for him. “I will. _If_ I feel sick.” 

Onni nodded and let him go. Reynir could feel his gaze as he crossed the room to the stairs.

It took a long time for him to fall asleep. His dorm room was too warm. Even his _dreams_ were: sunny beaches, bread turning golden brown in the oven, fire crackling in an open hearth. Arms wrapped around his waist, holding him, ice blue eyes thawing. A body pressed against his, soft but stirring, sending pleasant flares of heat through him—

_Reynir._

That voice, saying his name—sometimes he wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard, just to hear it again—

_Reynir!_

Such a warm voice. Everything was warm—his bed, his dreams, the hands that held him close. Too warm though. He should open a window. Let in some cool air, then maybe he could finish his essay— 

“Reynir!”

He opened his eyes, coming reluctantly awake. Something was wrong. He wasn’t in bed; he was standing up, leaning on a wooden bedpost. And not _his_ bed, either, because this wasn’t his dorm. It was Onni’s.

“Reynir,” Onni said again, quieter now that Reynir’s eyes were open, “What are you doing?”

“I was...I was opening a window,” he said. He thought it made sense, but Onni’s frown said otherwise.

“We live in the dungeons, Reynir,” Onni said, still gentle but so, so serious. “The windows don’t open.” He kicked off his covers and stood up. “I’m taking you to the hospital wing.”

“No!” Reynir shook his head. “I was just...it was a dream. I’m fine, you said, you promised—” Or maybe he had been the one who promised. It was all getting muddled. If he just went back to his own bed, he was sure it would be clear in the morning. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

But Onni was shaking his head. “You’re not. Reynir—”

“No—”

“Reynir, you’re _glowing.”_

Reynir looked down at himself. Strange. He _was_ glowing, a pale orange light that seemed to come right out of his skin. They really shouldn’t bother with heating this place. He was warm enough for the whole castle—

The floor tilted then, and Reynir tipped forward before he could ask it to please go back to being flat. The last thing he saw before the lights went out was Onni’s face, and Onni’s arms outstretched to catch him.

 

* * *

 

Reynir’s cheek burned hot against Onni’s neck. He did his best to ignore it and keep walking. It was a long way to the hospital wing; the faster he went, the sooner he would get some help for Reynir.

He’d known there was something wrong. He’d _known._ But Reynir had said he was okay, and Onni had sat on his fears. It was often like that; Onni found something to fret about, and Reynir told him to relax, to worry less, that everything would be fine. Most of the time, Reynir was right and Onni was wrong—everything usually _was_ fine. He hadn’t wanted to be right this time. 

And now Reynir was a furnace in his arms, giving off enough light that Onni could see where he was going without a spell. _Phoenix flu._ He’d had it himself as a child, of course, and watched Tuuri and Lalli go through it. He’d heard about the sick students in the hospital wing and remembered what Jonna had said on the train. He’d noticed Reynir acting unlike himself. He should have insisted he seek treatment sooner.

The lights were on at the entrance to the hospital wing. Mikkel looked up from the desk when Onni entered. “Another one?” He looked tired, but not surprised. 

“He has a fever. He’s been tired, having trouble focusing—and he just sleepwalked into my room and seemed confused when he woke up.”

“And then collapsed on you, I’m assuming.” Mikkel stood. “Unless you carried him all the way here for the romance of it?”

Onni glared at him. “This isn’t a time for jokes! He needs help!”

Mikkel sighed. “No one appreciates my humor.” He opened the door to the next room. “Come on, let’s find him a bed.”

Reynir was coming around by the time they got him into bed and Mikkel checked his vitals. “He’ll get better and then get worse,” Mikkel said, pouring a steaming potion into a mug. “The phoenix flu is like that. Up and down. See if you can get him to drink this, it will help.”

Onni took the mug and sat in the chair beside the bed. Mikkel had put an ice pack on Reynir’s forehead to help cool him down; his hair was standing up in all directions around it, and pieces kept sticking to his face. Onni brushed some of the strands out of the way and adjusted the ice to cover more of Reynir’s skin. He tried not to feel guilty as he did it; this was a perfectly reasonable time to touch Reynir’s hair. It had nothing to do with all those other times he wanted to touch it. Reynir’s eyes fluttered, then opened.

“Onni?” 

“Hey.” Onni felt his shoulders relax a little at the sound of Reynir’s voice. “You’re in the hospital wing. You’ll be okay now.” Strange to be the reassuring one. “Can you drink this?”

“Course I can. I’m fine.” He grimaced when he tasted it. “Ughh, it’s bitter.”

Onni snorted. “When you think of the ingredients we use in Potions class, you should be grateful that’s all it is.” He took the cup away and set it aside.

Reynir smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.” He slumped back into the pillows. “So what happens now? Do I magically start to feel better?”

“Umm. Well.” Onni looked away. “Phoenix flu is...tricky. From what I remember, you just have to treat it and wait for it to go away on its own.” 

“Really?” Reynir shook his head. “You’d think wizards would have found a magical cure by now.” 

“Yes, but it’s a little harder to do that when it’s a magical disease in the first place.” Onni had done some research over the past few days. By now he’d spent so much time with the books of healing spells that it hadn’t taken long to find. “Phoenix flu only ever appears in magic users. That’s why you’d never heard of it; muggles just don’t have to worry about it. Most wizards get it when they’re kids, but for those who don’t come from wizarding families...well. You wouldn’t have been exposed.”

“Huh.” Reynir’s eyelids were starting to droop. “Lucky me, I guess. Wouldn’t have had you to take care of me, as a kid.”

Onni didn’t know how to respond to that, so he busied himself with tucking the blankets more closely around Reynir. “You should try to sleep.”

“Mmkay.” Reynir closed his eyes. Onni stood up, patting the blankets one last time. As he turned to the door, Reynir said, “Wait.”

“What is it?”

The glow from Reynir’s skin had faded, but his eyes still glittered when he cracked them open. “You’re not...going to stay?”

“I…” Onni wavered. It was far outside of visiting hours, and he should be back in his own bed. But he didn’t relish the long walk back to Hufflepuff house, and he hated leaving Reynir when he looked so vulnerable. And Reynir had asked him to stay. “All right.” There was an extra blanket at the foot of the bed. The chair beside it wasn’t very comfortable, but it didn’t really matter. Onni doubted he’d be able to sleep much. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, giving in to temptation and smoothing Reynir’s hair. “I’ll be right here.”

 

* * *

 

Morning came with a stiff neck and the return of Reynir’s stubbornness.

“I’m better now!” He pushed the blankets aside and made to stand up. 

Onni pushed the blankets back. “You’re not!” Reynir was still running a fever, and his restless thrashing had kept Onni from sleeping. It was completely unfair that he _looked_ so much better, and apparently felt that way, when Onni had spent all night worrying about him. “No one gets better from phoenix flu that fast.”

“Maybe I’m a special case! Or maybe it’s not the phoenix flu at all.” Reynir gripped the edge of the blanket again, trying to pull it away from Onni.

“No, it’s definitely the phoenix flu,” Mikkel said from the door. He had a tray of food and another mug of the potion he’d given Reynir last night. “They always get like this in the morning.”

“What, healthy?” Reynir asked. He still looked like he might try to get up. 

“Annoying,” Mikkel corrected. “I had the hardest time keeping the first years from getting out of bed and going to Quidditch club yesterday. Thought they were all better.” He plunked the tray onto Reynir’s lap, effectively stopping him from moving. 

Reynir poked at his food. “But I _am_ better. You're saying I'll start to feel bad again? Like yesterday?”

“Most likely,” Mikkel said. “You need to stay here so we can keep an eye on you. The symptoms can get quite bad.” He nodded to Onni. “There's no need for you to stay, though. You should get breakfast, maybe rest.”

“But—” Reynir and Onni both started to protest at the same time. They looked at each other, then Reynir laughed. 

“He's right, Onni. I'll be okay if you take a break. But…” he looked around the room, taking in the white walls and absence of anything that wasn't strictly functional. “Come back soon, okay? It's _boring_ here.”

Onni got to his feet reluctantly, groaning as his muscles protested. “Fine. But don't you dare leave that bed while I'm gone.”

“If he tries,” Mikkel said, with a hint of a smile, “I'll sit on him.”

Reynir rolled his eyes. Onni decided he was in good hands and went to get breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Onni stopped short in the doorway. “I didn't think you were _serious.”_

“Neither did he,” Mikkel said. He was reading a book, seemingly unconcerned by the squirming form of Reynir beneath him. He leaned against the wall with one of Reynir's pillows behind him, his large frame neatly pinning Reynir's legs in place. “I _did_ say I would.”

“That was three days ago! And I’ve told you, I’m better! This is...cruelty to patients!” Reynir said. He glared at Mikkel and Onni in turn. “Make him stop!”

Onni shook his head. “I don't think I can make him do anything. But I brought you a distraction.” He presented Reynir with a stack of textbooks. “Your essay won't write itself.”

Reynir leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Cruel, both of you. I get sick and what happens? Everyone is mean to me.”

Mikkel closed his book and heaved himself to his feet. “It seems like you've got it under control,” he said to Onni. “I'll see to the other patients.”

“Did you really try to leave again?” Onni asked once Mikkel left. “I wasn’t gone _that_ long.” He’d been coming by every chance he got, stopping to visit in between classes.

“I only wanted to look out the window,” Reynir grumbled, “It’s not like I was going to hop on a broom or take up tap dancing.”

The bedside chair was just as uncomfortable as Onni’s backside remembered. The two were now well acquainted. “You say that now, but I’ve seen what you get up to in your free time. There’s no telling what you’ll do if I leave you alone.”

Reynir frowned. “Oh, come on. Name _one_ dangerous thing I’ve done.”

Onni laughed. “One?” He sorted through the parchment he’d brought, found a sheet covered in writing, and cleared his throat. “Would you like the list chronologically, or alphabetically?”

It was worth it to see the look of horror on Reynir’s face. “You have a _list?”_

Onni passed the parchment over. “No, I just wanted to see what you would do.” He pulled out a quill and several books from the pile. “That’s your Transfiguration essay. Get to work.” He paused, then added, “Will the books be enough to weigh you down, or do I need to take Mikkel’s place?”

Reynir’s indignant expression gave way to a smile. “Oh, would you?” He patted the bed beside him. “I mean, I’d prefer if you didn’t sit _on_ me, but...I wouldn’t mind the company. And that chair looks really hard.”

“It’s...not ideal,” Onni admitted. The bed wasn’t either, really; it was too narrow for two people to share it comfortably. Especially if one of those people was Onni, who had a clearly-defined sense of personal space, and the other was Reynir, who...didn’t. Years of friendship had given Onni some insight into it though, and he’d come to a conclusion: touching people all the time was _normal_ for Reynir. He’d seen it most clearly over the summer, watching Reynir and his parents and siblings all bumping around their little farmhouse. Someone was always tugging Reynir’s braid or patting his head or pulling him into a one-armed hug. A few of them had done the same to Onni at first, but they’d noticed him flinching and settled into more careful contact. Handshakes and fist bumps offered. A gentle hand on the shoulder when he could see it coming. Only Reynir seemed oblivious; he draped himself all over Onni just as much as usual.

So Onni got out of the chair and eased into the space Reynir had made for him. It was fine, he assured himself. He was doing this to help his sick friend who sought comfort in touch. Not for any other reason. 

“Mmm. Much better.” Reynir immediately settled his head on Onni’s shoulder. “I guess if I have to do homework, this is the best way to do it.”

They sat in companionable quiet for a while, only breaking the silence with turning pages and the scratch of a quill. Onni kept half an eye on Reynir’s work as he read; his own homework was finished, and he suspected that no matter how much better Reynir felt, this wouldn’t be his best essay. So when Reynir started fidgeting and crossed out the same word three times in a row, Onni reached over and took the quill from his fingers. “I think it’s time for a break.”

Reynir sighed. “But I’m not finished! And I’m not tired, so don’t try to convince me I should sleep.”

Onni set the quill on the bedside table where Reynir couldn’t reach it. “Right, but pushing through to write that when you’re sick won’t do you any good. You know the professor will give you time to make it up.” He sifted through the stack of books until he found the one he wanted. “I thought you might like it if I read to you instead.”

“Really?” Reynir visibly brightened. Or maybe it was the red of fever tinting his cheeks. 

“I got to thinking, since you didn’t get phoenix flu as a kid...you probably missed out on some other things we did as kids, too,” Onni said. The book was old and well-loved. Tuuri had packed it into his trunk when he left for his first year at Hogwarts, and he’d never bothered to returning it to the family library. 

Reynir traced a crack in the leather cover. _“The Tales of Beedle the Bard,”_ he read. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love wizard names? They’re so much weirder than muggle names. Way more fun.”

Onni couldn’t help smiling a little. “If you say so.” He opened the book to the first page. “Right, so. The first story is called _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot.”_ He cleared his throat and began to read. _“There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbors—”_

“Sounds like you,” Reynir murmured. He snuggled closer, his hair tickling Onni’s neck.

“Hush,” Onni said, “I’m reading.” The fever must be getting to Reynir, if he thought Onni was a ‘kindly old wizard’. 

“Sorry.”

_“Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms, and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot. From miles around, people came to him with their troubles, and the wizard was pleased to give his pot a stir, and put things right.”_

It didn’t take long for Reynir to slip into sleep. And when Onni was sure he would stay that way, he let his own eyes fall closed. It had been a long week. Surely he could rest a bit.

 

* * *

 

When Onni woke, the bed was empty and the room was freezing.

“Wha—Reynir!” Even without the frigid air, the realization that Reynir was gone was enough to wake him right up. He scrambled to his feet, kicking the blankets aside. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. He should  have stayed awake to keep an eye on Reynir. Now he could be wandering the castle in a delirious state, doing who-knew-what—

“Isn’t it pretty, Onni?”

Reynir was standing by the open window.

Onni allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief. “Isn’t what pretty, Reynir?” He could tell it was the fever talking. Reynir was glowing again, red-gold against the gathering dusk. Onni moved to stand next to him. It was a big window; too big for comfort now, with Reynir staring out as though transfixed. 

“The sky,” Reynir said. “All grey wispy clouds. Like your hair. Have I told you about your pretty hair?” He looked at Onni now, a radiant smile on his face. “I like to look at it.” 

For a moment Reynir’s fever-bright eyes burned right through him. _He must know,_ Onni thought, willing his heart to slow down or simply stop and end him. _He has to. The way he’s looking at me—_

Then Reynir blinked. “Oh. It’s...cold?” He shivered and tipped sideways to lean against Onni. “Take me inside. The sky is watching me.”

_It’s the fever,_ Onni told himself firmly. _Just fever. People say all kinds of things._ He closed the window and wrapped an arm around Reynir to help him back to bed. “Stay here,” he said, tucking the blankets in tight. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Will you...protect me...from the sky?” Reynir asked. He sounded weaker now, tired out by the thing that burned inside him.

Onni rested his fingers on Reynir’s hair, let them linger for a moment. It hurt his heart to see someone so vibrant turned so fragile. Obeying a sudden impulse, he stooped down and pressed his lips to Reynir’s forehead. “I will protect you from everything,” he whispered. Then he drew away, double checked the locking charm he’d worked on the window, and went to find Mikkel.

“He’s getting worse,” Onni said, slamming into the hospital wing office. “What have you been putting in that potion? Is there anything better we can use? He’s _burning up,_ and—”

Mikkel regarded him coolly over the stack of blankets he’d been folding. “I assume you mean one of the phoenix flu patients?”

Onni barely resisted the urge to grab the linens out of Mikkel’s hands and throw them on the floor. “YES I mean one of the phoenix flu patients! Reynir! You know him, you _left me in his room this morning!_ Merlin’s beard, you sat on him for an hour so I could get some breakfast.” He braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I just had to stop him from _jumping out the window_ because his hallucinations are so bad. This is _not_ the time for your stupid jokes.”

“Ah.” Mikkel set a blanket on the pile. “Well, to answer your question, we’ve been giving him the same potion the other patients have been getting. Standard fever reducers. With so many people sick, we’re running low on whomping willow bark, so I’ve had to substitute regular willow bark, but—”

“Whomping willow bark?” Onni frowned. “Like the tree on the grounds that attacks people if they get too close?”

“Right. It’s very good against magical fevers. Attacks the illness, so to speak.”

“But...then why are you running low? There’s one right here at Hogwarts, can’t you collect more?” 

Mikkel shook his head solemnly. “Alas, no. As you pointed out, the tree _does_ attack people who get too close. I’m afraid it’s not worth the risk.”

Onni felt an idea stirring, taking root in his mind. It was a very stupid idea. Reynir would approve. “But if you did get it...you could use it? To help him—help _them_ get better faster?”

“I could.” Mikkel picked up the blankets and stood. “But it would be foolish for someone to try.”

It would be. But Onni was willing to be a fool, just this once. “I’m going to...get dinner,” he said. “Keep an eye on Reynir for me? I don’t want him to go out the window.”

“Sure,” Mikkel said. “Enjoy your...dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Being an animagus had its advantages. It was easy enough for Onni to slip out of the castle unnoticed; all he needed was an open window. His night vision helped too, since darkness fell early in the winter. And as he neared the tree, seemingly innocent and still beneath a fresh layer of snow, Onni thought his owl form might be useful there, too. He was smaller this way, more agile. It should be easier to dodge any flailing branches. He aimed for an open space and dropped.

_THWAP_

The blow sent Onni flying. He was too stunned to even try to break his fall—the snowbank rose to meet him. He came up sputtering, shaking snow from his feathers. He glared at the tree. A few of the branches were waving gently, even though there was no wind.

_So that’s how it’s going to be,_ he thought, flapping his wings to get airborne. _I’ll have to be more careful next time. I’m ready for it, it won’t be as bad._ He circled a few times, banking low to get close to the ground. Spotted an opening and took it.

_THONK_

It definitely hurt more the second time. He landed on his back, and the stars spun above him. Maybe this would be harder than he’d thought.

By the time the fourth attempt plowed him face-first into the snow, Onni had to admit that his plan needed some work. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t get close to the tree. He’d realized, somewhere around the time he’d grabbed for a branch with his talons and missed, that his owl form didn’t have a good way to gather the bark and carry it back. He would have to be human for this after all.

All of Onni’s bruises hurt twice as much when he transformed. “Son of a bludger!” He was probably going to have a black eye. Melted snow soaked his clothes, and it was colder without his insulating feathers. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. But when he thought of Reynir’s fevered eyes and the sight of him silhouetted in the open window, he knew he couldn’t give up.

 “Right then.” Onni stood up and faced the tree. It was obviously too dangerous to try to get to the trunk like he’d originally planned. A branch would do; some of them were quite thick and had plenty of bark. He just had to get his hands on one. He thought briefly of going for his broom—it would make him more mobile. But he also remembered seeing other students daring each other to touch the trunk, and some rather spectacular failures on the part of Sigrun on her broom. If she couldn’t manage it, there was no way he could. 

The thought of his broom did give him an idea, though. “After all,” he muttered, pulling his wand from his pocket, “it’s not like I’m at a _magic school_ learning _magic._ I’m here for the tree wrestling.” Reynir would have laughed at that joke, he thought. Reynir would have been the one hurling himself at the tree if he were here. Though of course, if Reynir was here, none of this would be necessary. “Here goes nothing.” He took aim at the nearest branch and cast a sticking charm on it. 

The branch didn’t move. Well and good; the sticking charm was supposed to keep it from moving, though he’d never tried it on something like a tree branch. Onni edged toward it, watching carefully. Still no movement. He held his wand out, took aim, and drew a deep breath. “ _Dif—_ ”

Before he could finish the word, the branch whipped around and caught him across the stomach. Onni flew one way, his wand another. He didn’t have enough breath left to swear, let alone say a spell. He rolled over and got to his knees, wheezing. “Stupid...tree…” The edges of his vision were blurred. He found his wand, stood, and pointed it at the tree. _“Diffindo!”_

Light shot out from the tip of his wand. It should have sliced right through the offending branch. But the branch dodged out of the way. _“Diffindo!”_ Onni said again, aiming for a different branch. Another miss. _“Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo!”_ The tree almost seemed to be playing with him. Even when it seemed certain he would hit, it moved at the last second. And then one of his spells missed the branch he’d been aiming for and struck the one directly behind it. Onni could see the place where it hit. He _saw_ it. He allowed himself a moment of hope.

Nothing happened.

The whomping willow continued waving its branches, completely undamaged. 

Onni saw red.

Later, he couldn’t say what spells he used next. He remembered slashing his wand through the air, shouting until his throat hurt. He remembered magic sizzling through him, stray bolts hissing when they hit the snow. He remembered, in a fragmented way, the moment he got just a little too close. The moment the tree swung for him again, and he flew again without the aid of his wings, and then he remembered nothing until he woke up shivering.

Onni’s head ached. Every part of him ached. His heart hurt worst of all, because he hadn’t gotten what Reynir needed. He was a failed wizard, a failed friend.

“I might as well just stay here and let you keep hitting me,” Onni said. He was past the point of caring that he was talking to a tree. For all he knew, it might actually understand him. “I shouldn’t have tried to take your bark. But I need it. My friend needs it. He’s sick, the fever is burning him up, and I thought...I don’t know. I thought I could do what adult wizards are afraid to do, since it meant saving my friend.” He closed his eyes. “I guess I was wrong.”

He was quiet then, content to listen to the branches whispering to each other and feeling the cold creep into his bones. It was peaceful out here, now that he’d given up. Maybe he’d just stay. Reynir would burn to ash with fever, and he’d freeze to ice, and neither of them would have to worry about the other any more.

Above him, something cracked. Onni opened his eyes. With his human vision, he couldn’t see anything, just the tree. The noise came again, and this time the rustling branches grew louder. He saw the dark shape plummeting towards him just in time to roll out of the way. It struck the ground a hair’s breadth from his head. 

“What the—” Onni sat up and looked at the object. It was a branch, twisted and scarred on one end. His spells hadn’t done that. The wound looked old. As he watched, the limb twitched, spasmed, and then lay still.

Onni looked up at the tree. The tree looked down at him. 

“Ah. Thank you? I think?” Onni reached for the branch, wary of another trick. It let him pick it up though. It was long, longer than his broomstick and thicker around than his arm at one end. He hoisted that over his shoulder and let the thin end drag in the snow, took one last look at the tree, and headed back to the castle.

 

* * *

 

The branch made a satisfying _thump_ when Onni dropped it on Mikkel’s desk. “I got it. Now fix him.”

Mikkel’s eyebrows disappeared under his hair. “What is this?”

“What?” Onni stared at him. “It’s...you said you needed it! For Reynir’s fever. The whomping willow bark.” He was sure he was speaking clearly, even if the room was starting to spin. “We talked before dinner.”

“Did we? I certainly don’t remember that.” Mikkel leaned toward Onni. “Are you feeling well? You _did_ have the phoenix flu as a child, right?”

“Of course I did,” Onni growled, “and I just fought a bloody tree to get that bark, so if you wouldn’t mind brewing a potion so Reynir gets well, that would be—”

It was just as well he never finished the sentence; Onni hadn’t been sure how he was going to end it. The heat of the room struck him all at once, and he went down like a felled tree.

 

* * *

 

Onni knew he was still alive because dead people didn’t get bruises. He lay still for a while, cataloging each of their locations from the way they ached. Gradually he became aware of other things: the soft bed beneath him, the warm blankets wrapped around him, the faint sounds of someone breathing nearby. Despite the bruising, he felt better than he thought he ought to. He was dry, and comfortable, and he could probably go back to sleep if he wanted. Something nagged at him though. He should really try to wake up more, to remember what he was doing and why he was in the hospital wing—

The hospital wing. The phoenix flu. The whomping willow.

Reynir.

“Reynir!” Onni’s eyes opened. He tried to sit up, but every muscle screamed at him to stop.

“Onni! You’re—oh, don’t move, you’re still hurt.” Reynir’s face appeared above him, smiling that same cheerful smile that always seemed to come out when Onni was at his worst. A cool hand brushed the hair back from Onni’s forehead. “It’s so good to see you.” 

“It’s...good to see you too.” Onni’s voice came out croaky. “You’re...better?”

Reynir _looked_ better. It might have been a result of the early light streaming through the window, but his color seemed more normal, no glowing skin or glassy fevered eyes. 

“I’m better! For real this time,” Reynir said. He reached for a glass of water on the bedside table. “If I help you sit up, can you drink this?”

Onni doubted he had much of a choice. “Mmhmm.”

Sitting up hurt, but it was good to be able to see more of his surroundings. This hospital room had two beds in it, crammed slightly too close together. The other one had recently been occupied, judging from the rumpled sheets. Once he was satisfied that Onni and the water were getting along, Reynir sat there and started to chatter.

“I’m so happy you’re awake! I have so much to tell you. You’re a hero, did you know? All the first years wanted to come in and thank you, but Mikkel told them he was going to lock them in their rooms if they didn’t go back to bed.” The sunny smile turned ever-so-slightly devious. “Of course, he told me the same thing, but _apparently_ I kept sleepwalking in here, even with the door locked. So Mikkel gave up and put my bed in with yours.”

Onni snorted. “Sleepwalking. Right.” He shook his head.

“What can I say? I’m good at unlocking charms,” Reynir said, all innocence.

“Uh huh. So why exactly are first years trying to visit me? And why am I here, anyway? I don’t need the hospital wing for bruises.” It didn’t feel like the hospital wing had done anything for his bruises, either, though they must have taken care of the black eye. He couldn’t feel any swelling.

“Umm. Well.” Reynir rubbed the back of his neck. “You kind of...collapsed right in front of Mikkel, and you were bleeding and cold and soaked through. They wanted to make sure you were okay. And...after I started sleepwalking into your room, they decided it would be better to just keep you here, because as Mikkel put it, ‘he’ll just drag himself back here as soon as he wakes up.’ So that’s why you’re here.”

“Oh.” Onni vaguely remembered confronting Mikkel with the tree branch. He supposed he should be glad for the consideration; it was convenient to have a bed of his own, instead of the horrible chair by Reynir’s bed. “But...the first years?”

“You SAVED us!” The door burst open, letting in a small crowd of students. Onni recognized several of them from Quidditch club; he’d spent a lot of Saturdays making sure they stayed on their brooms. Kjersti, the first year Reynir had befriended on the train platform, led the charge. “Everyone is talking about it! You fought the whomping willow and got the cure for us. Even _Sigrun_ is impressed!” She came up to his bed and dropped a chocolate frog on his lap. “Here! To thank you.” She stepped back to let the next student through. This one didn’t say anything, just smiled and set a handful of licorice wands next to the frog. One by one they all came up, offering their thanks and little gifts. Onni kept looking from them to Reynir, not quite sure what to do with any of it.

Luckily, just as the last student was leaving his gift, Mikkel appeared in the doorway. “Ah, I wondered where you lot got to.” He looked over their heads at Reynir. “I guess we have a lot of people here who aren’t bothered by locks.” 

Reynir shrugged and developed a sudden fascination with a loose thread on his blanket. Mikkel sighed.

“Right, back to your beds. If you’re still feeling energetic by evening, you can go back to your dorms tonight— _after_ you get your final checkup. Go on, I know you all have homework to do.”

The crowd of admirers filed out. Mikkel sighed and closed the door. “That goes for you two as well. I’ll be glad when you’re back in your dorms and I don’t have to deal with all your trouble.”

“Trouble?” Onni bristled. “I don’t cause trouble! I’m a prefect.”

“And I can’t cause trouble as long as Onni is around,” Reynir said, “He’s a prefect. And a hero! You should be nicer to him, Michael.”

“Look about this hero thing—wait. Michael?” Onni leaned over to look more closely at Reynir. “Are you sure you’re feeling better? His name is Mikkel, you know that.”

Reynir shook his head. “No, this is Michael. Mikkel’s shift ended before you woke up.”

Onni stared at him. Then glared at Mikkel. “He’s not better! You said the potion would help!” All his effort had been for nothing.

“Did I say that?” Mikkel shrugged, his expression as bland as ever. “Or was it Mikkel who said that?”

“But...but... _you’re_ Mikkel!” Onni pointed an accusing finger at him. “You are! Stop messing with me, Reynir’s hallucinating and—”

“Mikkel is my brother,” Mikkel said. 

Nothing made sense anymore. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have a brother. I’ve never heard of you having a brother!” He looked to Reynir for help. “Since when does Mikkel have a brother?”

“Umm...since always?” Reynir was looking at Onni like _he_ was the one hallucinating. “That’s...kind of how twins work, right?”

“Mikkel has three brothers,” Possibly-not-Mikkel said. “Malthe, Martin, and myself. And three sisters. You won’t have met the youngest ones though, they’ll start here in a few years.”

“But where have you _been_ this whole time? I’ve been at this school five years, I think I would have noticed there were two of you!”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised. Plenty of people don’t. You’ve talked to me several times this week and thought I was my brother.”

As insane as it sounded, some part of it made horrible sense. “So that’s...when I brought the branch and you didn’t know what I was talking about…” 

“That was Mikkel. We don’t always have time to compare notes.” Michael smirked. “I wish I’d seen the look on his face when you showed up with half a tree.”

“And you just...let people think you’re the same person? That’s so messed up!”

The door opened. “Oh, come on, Onni. Dad and Uncle Jukka used to do the same thing.” 

For a moment, the ache of Onni’s bruises were replaced by a much sharper pain that had nothing to do with fighting a tree. “Tuuri.”

She strolled into the room and sat down on the end of Reynir’s bed. “Michael, could you take Reynir for a walk or something?”

Reynir fluffed his pillow. “Oh, no thanks, I’m fine here. Hey!” Michael crossed the room and picked him up. “Put me down!”

“We’re going for a walk,” Michael said. 

“I don’t want to go for a walk, I want—Onni?” Reynir looked ridiculous hanging over Michael’s back, but his eyes were serious. “Do you want me to stay? I can probably turn him blue or something even without my wand.”

Onni sighed. “It’s fine, go ahead.” As much as he wouldn’t mind seeing Mikkel—Michael?—turned blue, he thought he might as well get this conversation over with. He waited until the two of them left the room, then sank back onto his pillows. “I suppose you’re here with a lecture?” He deserved one. He’d been an idiot about everything, and now he’d been one so publicly that the whole world probably knew how he felt.

But Tuuri looked down at the blanket and fidgeted with the same loose thread Reynir had. “Oh. No. Actually...I came to apologize.”

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have done what I did at the Yule ball. I knew you were freaking out and being...well, being a mess about it, but I should have just told you what I thought instead of tricking you. I guess I thought it would fix everything, you know? If you had a nice time at the ball and stopped being an uptight stick-in-the-mud for once—”

“Is this supposed to be an apology?” Onni asked. “It sounds more like you’re judging me.”

“Ugh! I’m sorry!” Tuuri flung herself off Reynir’s bed and onto Onni’s, wrapping him in a hug that squeezed his bruises and pressed an elbow into his gut. “I was really scared, Onni. People were saying all kinds of things—that you fought the whomping willow and _died._ And I just kept thinking about how awful it’s been between us, and...I don’t want to fight anymore, I hate it.”

Onni sighed. “I don’t want to fight either.”

“No?” Tuuri looked up at him with a hopeful smile.

“No,” Onni said. “You fight dirty, I’d much rather be on the same team.”

“Ha!” Now Tuuri was full-on grinning. “You’re not bad in a fight yourself. I mean, the whomping willow? Really? Sigrun won’t shut _up_ about it, she’s going to make you give her a play-by-play when you get out of here. I know I don’t normally say this kind of thing, but...I’m impressed, big brother.” 

“Hmmph.” Onni felt his own smile answering hers. “And here I thought you were going to tell me off for being an idiot.”

“Oh, you are an idiot,” Tuuri said. She stood up and straightened her robes. “But you’re the best idiot I know.” She paused at the door. “Now rest up and get well soon! Next Quidditch club we’re playing chicken with the whomping willow, Sigrun says.”

“What?”

“Oh look, Reynir and Michael are back. Bye!”

“Tuuri!”

Onni was halfway out of bed to chase after her when Reynir stumbled through the door, shouting at someone behind him. “You must be the evil twin!” 

“You say that now, but Mikkel was the one who sat on you for an hour,” Michael said. He noticed Onni. “Oh, great, another one is out of bed.” He threw up his hands, turned on his heel and closed the door behind him. They could hear the lock click.

“That won’t help!” Reynir called after him. More quietly, to Onni, he said, “So...you and Tuuri?”

“We’re good,” Onni said. He got back into bed. “And there’s no point in shouting at Michael, I’m not letting you leave until the sun goes down anyway. I want to make sure you’re not still sick.”

Reynir sighed. “Fine.” Instead of returning to his own bed, he grabbed his pillow and a book and sprawled across the end of Onni’s. “At least if you’re in here with me, I can do my homework _and_ make sure you’re not off somewhere punching trees.”

Onni groaned. “I did not _punch_ it! Merlin’s beard, is that what people are saying?” 

“Mmhmm. I think one of the third years is writing a song about it.” Reynir patted Onni’s knee. “Don’t look so upset! You did something great. People want to recognize you for it, that’s all.” He smiled, a softer, more private expression than usual. “I’m glad you did, even though I wish you’d been more careful. I really do feel a lot better, and it’s all thanks to you.”

And in spite of the bruises, in spite of the embarrassing attention that awaited him, hearing those words made Onni feel better, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know who is the bigger dumbass in this chapter: Reynir "I never get sick" Árnason, or Onni "fought a LITERAL TREE" Hotakainen. Maybe both? Both. I love them so much.
> 
> The "biggest ass" award definitely goes to the Madsen twins though. They even had _me_ fooled, it took until this chapter for me to remember that Mikkel has siblings and the odds are very good they'd be at Hogwarts too. We probably won't be seeing a lot of Michael going forward (the twin shtick has been pretty well filled by the Kuikkas) but this gave me a perfect opportunity to acknowledge his presence.


End file.
